


Best that I can

by Samari1



Series: Tales of being friends with a pillow wielding Natasha Romanov [1]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awkward Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Clint Barton Has Issues, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Deaf Clint Barton, Idiots in Love, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Natasha deserves a damn vacation, Natasha has pillow weapons, Obsessive Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:21:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26279344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samari1/pseuds/Samari1
Summary: Natasha has had enough! Idiot men need to get with the program. There are pillow weapons and socially awkward men.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Tales of being friends with a pillow wielding Natasha Romanov [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012401
Comments: 2
Kudos: 58





	Best that I can

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a conversation between Nival_Vixen and myself about obsessive Steve and Natasha being a scary BAMF when a bet is on the line.

Clint still wasn’t certain how he’d ended up in Croatia. Well, that wasn’t entirely correct. Nat was the reason. That much he knew. One of these days he was going to have to say “no” when she demanded he do something. It wasn’t going to be time soon, he knew that much. He still didn’t know why she’d arrived at his apartment and packed him a bag and his gear before shooing Lucky down to Aimee and him out the damn door and to a quinjet.

She’d brought coffee. ‘Cause she knew him. Promised pizza too. Hmf. He still didn’t have his fucking pizza. He wasn’t going to complain. Okay, not much. Nat hit hard and that was if she had something soft like a pillow at hand. She didn’t, so he stayed quiet and followed. It wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last that there has been a mission she needed a second set of eyes (and his aim) for. For all he knew, she just wanted company. Hell, they hadn’t had a break in months, Fury keeping them busy so they - or so he claimed - didn’t get ‘bored’ because all had been quiet on the Avengers front. He’d been grumpy at that. The tracksuit mafia and their ilk kept him busy enough, thank you very much!

Nat elbowed him in the ribs and he winced. She stopped, eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you’re all bruised up again?”

His cheeks and the back of his neck got hot. “Wasn’t my fault this time.”

She clearly didn’t believe him, but herded him though the streets anyway. Damn it. She’d be questioning him and Clint didn’t want to admit he’d still been sleepy when he’d gone for pizza. Well the part where he’d tripped and not caught himself before rolling ass over head into a dumpster. Yeah, that had happened. She knew he was a hot mess. Clint knew. Fuck it, everyone knew. He just would rather keep the more embarrassing injuries to himself. Like the time he’d given himself a haircut and forgotten the guard on the clippers. It had taken some quick talking about how he’d slept in his aids and that was where the scratches had come from. Not that she’d believed him. She thought he had a secret lover and had spent three weeks shadowing him before giving up. 

She finally tugged him into an apartment building. He studied it as much as he could with her hauling him around and decided that he’d lived in worse. They climbed the stairs and he caught enough of the conversations to know that it was dinner time and most of the inhabitants were sitting down to their meal. 

His stomach rumbled. Clint blushed at Nat’s eye roll. She’d had hoagies and stuff on the quinjet, but damn it, he wanted that promised pizza. They didn’t stop until they reached a door two down from the stairwell. She knocked, one of her coded knocks, and the door swung open. His jaw almost dropped before he managed to school his expression. Huh. Everything made a bit more sense now. 

“Now the running around like chickens with our heads cut off makes sense.” Oops. That had been more petulant than he’d meant. Damn it. She could have trusted him. Clint thought she did trust him. 

“I asked her not to.” James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, aka Winter Soldier, and bff of Captain America, looked very defensive. 

Clint winced. Oops. He must have said that last bit about trust aloud. Fuck. 

“James, stop.” Nat just huffed. “Don’t pout at me, Clint. I was protecting both of you.”

His, “Nat!” got all mixed up with the, “Natalia.”

Ouch, she winced at Bucky’s - no wait, Nat called him James so it would probably be wise for Clint to as well - look of disappointment. Clint wondered if James would teach him how to do that or if it would even work if Clint tried it.

Nat sighed heavily. “Keeping two steps ahead of Steve has been okay. Almost too easy, even. But-”

“Natalia, I’m a big boy. We’ve discussed this.”

She waved off his concern, literally. “Yes yes, but he’s a tad obsessive and getting worse.” She paused, making sure both of them were paying full attention. “Sam is taking over the search.”

“Fuck, that is going to be a problem.”

“Damnit, Steve! Why can’t you leave me the fuck alone for five fuckin’ minutes?!”

Awww. No. Clint didn’t like to see the gorgeous man (yes, he’d noticed! He was deaf not blind!) look so defeated. He watched as James paced the small apartment, running his bionic arm through his hair until finally pulling a hair thing off his wrist and pulling it up. Damn. Damn. Damn. The dark brown, almost black hair, was well past the man’s shoulders. Lust hit. Hard. Awww, no, down boy. James hit every single one of Clint’s buttons, at least physically. He didn’t need his notoriously horrible luck in relationships fucking up James’ chances to figure out who he was without Steve breathing down his neck. 

“We can outsmart Sam.” Damn. His mouth ran away again. Shit. Clint didn’t know if James even wanted his help. He felt his face heating up and ducked his head. Fucks sake. Why was he so damn socially awkward?!

“Okay.”

His head shot up, jaw dropping before he could stop it this time. The tone had been almost hesitant, as if James couldn’t believe Clint wasn’t pulling his phone out and reporting to Steve and Sam. “Okay?”

Nat snickered. “Morons, both of you. Of course you can. Why else would I have brought Clint? Where’s a damn pillow?”

James grinned and Clint’s knees may have gone weak, for just a second. “Not a moron, Natalia. There are none.”

She glared and James winced. “If you two weren’t morons, I wouldn’t have to smack you around.” She stormed over to the kitchen area and started banging around in the cabinets and drawers.

“Should we run?” Clint whispered. 

James eyed the door and windows. Then he shrugged. “Wouldn’t do any good, she’d catch us.”

Clint snickered. “You maybe, not me.”

Nat growled and slammed the drawer. “Not even a wooden spoon, James?”

James crossed his arms over his chest, smirking now. “Like I said, not a moron.”

Clint made a mental note to get a footlocker for his apartment. He could keep all the pillows and spoons there so she couldn’t use them on him. He wasn’t giving up his pillows totally though. Hmf. “You should see someone about your anger management problems, Nat.”

She laughed. James’ eyes widened and Clint grinned. 

“You know the deal. I see someone for anger management when you give up coffee … and pizza.”

Now he glared. “Speaking of, you promised me pizza. I see no pizza. Hmf.”

She looked smug. “I also brought you a whole pot of coffee in a new purple travel mug. You’re easy, Barton.”

“Pffft. No, I’m not. Ask anyone. I’m a pain in the ass with no social skills.”

James was blushing. His voice wasn’t quite steady. “You distracting Wilson, then, Natalia?”

Clint was so confused. He’d not said anything awkward this time, had he? Best stand there and keep his mouth shut. Yeah. So much better that way. He still wanted pizza damn it. Ugh. One of these days he would stop falling for Nat’s tricksy ways. Maybe. Eventually. Or not. He didn’t want to lose his only friend. 

“You two can keep ahead of him. He’s looking for one guy, not two. We can’t keep this up forever, James. We can buy you maybe six more months, eight tops. Barring Avengers level problems. Fury will start grumbling at that point. You know he wants you back at SHIELD and he can only keep the Avengers busy for so long until someone has a temper tantrum.”

Clint was going to ignore her eyeing him. He hasn’t thrown a tantrum. Grumbled, complained … okay, maybe a slight tantrum. Ugh.

“Fine. Damn. Fury hasn’t changed a bit, has he?”

Nat strolled over and patted James’ cheek. “Not one bit. He wants his friend back too, but he gets it.”

Clint knew, thanks to Nat actually trusting him, that Fury had been a Howling Commando too and was like Nat, James, and Steve … way older than he looked. He smiled at the thought of Nick Fury frustrating and distracting Steve and Sam to protect a friend. Awwwww. It also explained why Fury had fought so hard to clear James’ name. 

“Can you two manage not to get tossed in jail or kill one another?”

“Of course.”

Clint just nodded. Damn. Six months or more keeping his hands to himself. What exactly had he done to piss Nat off so much that she felt the need to punish him this way?!

She was gone in seconds. Clint was truly grateful when James, blushing furiously, said, “There’s a pizza place just a couple blocks away.”

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all?

—— xxx

Nat had texted telling them to move on, that Sam had somehow caught James’ scent. Damn it. Oh well. They’d had almost two months to get used to one another in close quarters. There had been lots of bumping into one another. Blushing. Stammering. But, they’d made it work. 

Clint had managed to cool his stupid libido. Hadn’t been easy, especially since the bathroom was too tiny to get dressed in so there were low slung towels daily. Evil towels. Ones that only seemed to accentuate every amazing feature of James’ body. Then again, the first time he’d stepped out in a towel, James had nearly swallowed his tongue. Clint didn’t think it was his body though, probably the many and varied scars he’d picked up over the years. He was nothing special. 

“Where to?”

Clint looked up, blushing again damn it all. He could focus easily when he was working. It was the rest of the time that was a problem even when he had his aids turned on. He didn’t mean to get distracted. It just happened. 

James didn’t look irritated though, already packing his stuff in a hiking backpack, so yay! “I asked where you wanted to go.”

Clint realised he’d already started packing too, even lost in thought. “Uhh. Anywhere is fine. Touristy, but not one of the bigger, more popular locations might be best.”

James stilled, hand halfway between the backpack and his weapons. “Why?”

“Bigger crowds, more Americans… forget it, it was a dumb idea.”

“No. Stop it. It’s a really good idea. For a bit anyway. Anything you want to see but haven’t taken the time to?”

James was good at that. The whole nagging him to not calling himself dumb, stupid, or whatever. Clint appreciated the effort. Didn’t believe it, he had way too much evidence to the contrary. Just yesterday he’d nearly fallen in the bay and James (thank you Winter Soldier reflexes) had grabbed the back of his shirt to keep him from that embarrassment. He liked Dubrovnik and hated that they had to leave. Even if the grandma at the market thought he and James were a cute couple. Gah. That didn’t help his ongoing campaign to forget how much he’d like to have James toss him on the bed, rip his clothes off, and fuck him stupid. 

“Clint?”

He buried his face in his hands. Damn it. He’d done it again. “Sorry. Not enough coffee.”

James snickered. “Likely story, you had two pots plus three cups at the market. You okay?”

Damn it, could he blush any redder? Fucks sake. “As okay as I ever am.” He realised he’d not answered James’ question. Sticking to Eastern Europe was best, they were a bit more free with the not asking a lot of questions so long as you had cash thing. “What about Tallinn?”

James considered it for a few minutes. “Estonia works for me. Any particular reason why Tallinn?”

“I like old stuff.” Then he nearly facepalmed at how that could be taken. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He was a total moron. 

James’ grin was slow and did all sorts of things to Clint that he’d been trying to ignore. “Do you now?”

“Ugh. You know what I meant.”

James side eyed him, but thankfully didn’t say anything else. They packed their meagre belongings quickly and made for the bus station. They were going low tech, making it more difficult for them to be tracked. That meant busses and trains. Crossing the entirety of Eastern Europe wasn’t Clint’s best idea ever, but damn it, he’d been all distracted and thinking of naked James and sex and … he was so a moron. At least there were plenty of places they could duck off the bus or train if they got any more warning texts. 

James bought tickets and came to sit in the corner of the lobby with Clint. They would take turns buying tickets, using different identification each leg of the trip. He was scanning the room, not willing to get caught by freaking Sam Wilson. Hmf. James would go back when he wanted and not a moment sooner. They’d timed it perfectly, only waiting ten minutes before the bus began boarding. 

They were out the door and through the crowd when James grabbed his hand and James backed himself against the wall. Suddenly, Clint found himself being kissed. He was an idiot, but not so much of one that he didn’t join in enthusiastically. He stopped thinking after that. 

James was shorter and Clint practically blanketed him, hiding him from view. Which he didn’t realise until they finally broke what had to be the hottest kiss of Clint’s fucking life. Damn it. He blinked when James leaned in, whispering, “Wilson, six o’clock. Don’t move.”

He didn’t, his body still bracketing James’ and he blushed again realising he wasn’t the only one hard as a fucking rock after their kiss. It soothed his ego, slightly. He was such a moron. Of fucking course James wouldn’t kiss him if it hadn’t been the only option to hide from Sam. He was still mentally kicking himself when James pushed gently against his chest and he stepped back, his head bowed and unable to look at James. He knew he was blushing. Stupid hormones. Stupid feelings. 

“Hey.”

Clint winced. “We should go, yeah. Before he does a second sweep.”

James sighed. He didn’t say anything though and that said all Clint needed to know. Damn it. Hoping he hadn’t ruined the easy camaraderie, Clint hunched his shoulders and followed after James. He might die of mortification, but at least he’d kissed James, so all wasn’t lost.

He hoped.

—*

They switched buses in Herceg Novi and didn't say a word to one another the entire first leg of the trip. Or the second, which had been to Tivat. Clint just didn’t know what to say. No matter what, if it wasn’t related to job type stuff, he always said the wrong thing. So, he just shut up, no matter how much he wanted to break the uneasy silence with something, anything, even inane babbling that he hated but would not make him as twitchy as the silence. A silence that lasted until they made it to Minsk. They’d not laughed or joked or teased each other for almost four days. Not even when they stopped to catch a few hours of sleep along the way in hostels or safe houses. He missed the sly humor and (fuck, he was an idiot) the sound of James’ voice.

They left the bus station in Minsk and made for one of the many safe houses Clint had set up over the years. Yes, Nat knew about it, but she was on their side and wouldn’t mess this up for them - for James. Miserable and not knowing how to fix it. (He never knew how to fix it. See his divorce papers delivered on Valentine’s Day for proof.) After making sure it was still secure, Clint signed ‘running to market’ and fled. 

He shopped quickly, but not too quickly as to make anyone suspicious. James was sitting on the lone chair, hands buried in his hair and shoulders slumped when Clint got back. 

His heart clinched and he struggled to breathe. Damn it. This was what he’d worried about. Fuck. Just fuck. He set the grocery bags on the counter. “James?”

“I - I - damn it.”

Clint winced, his shoulders dropping as the distance between them got wider. “I’ll go. You were fine on your own. Maybe I can even lead Sam on a wild goose chase. I-”

James lunged to his feet, wide eyed. “No!”

Clint froze. He was so fucking confused. “You don’t need me. I’m just a fuck up. Clearly.”

“I do though.”

It was a whisper, one Clint barely caught even with his aids on. He checked them, certain he’d heard wrong. Nope. Fully functioning. So he tried, hoping he didn’t fuck it up even more. “What? Why?”

James bit his lip and sighed. “I’m the fuck up.”

Clint thought back to the last couple of months. He couldn’t recall one time James had fucked anything up. Yeah, that was solely in Clint’s wheelhouse. “Lie.”

“No. I don’t - I wouldn’t …” James shoved his bionic hand through his hair and winced. “I would never lie to you. See. If you don’t know that, I totally fucked up.”

Rolling his eyes, Clint crossed his arms over his chest. No. He wasn’t having this bullshit. Not at all. “Stop it. I fuck up. It’s what I do. Nat should have known better than to mess up your life by tossing me in the mix.” James looked like he was either going to scream or cry. Neither was acceptable. Clint made the only decision he thought was viable. Thankful for the small apartment, he grabbed his bag and tried not to cry. “I fuck everything up. I’m sorry.”

His hand was on the doorknob when James’ hand settled gently, but firmly on his shoulder. “Please, don’t go.” A pause. “I do need you.”

No one needed him. Clint knew that. But, he didn’t turn the knob and didn’t leave. Not when James sounded the way he did. Damn. He stared at the door, not willing to let James see the tears threatening to fall. Just once, he’d allowed himself to pretend that he was needed, that he mattered. If only in the privacy of his own mind. “No one needs me, James. I’ve come to terms with that.”

The backpack was lifted off his shoulder and he found himself whirled around and pushed against the door, James blanketing him this time. An angry, upset, sad something Clint couldn’t identify James. “I do. Damn it, Clint.”

He tried humor. “Yeah like I don’t hear ‘damn it, Clint’ all the time. I’m bad for everyone, don’t know how Nat puts up wi-”

James shut him up with a kiss. A kiss just as mind blowing as the one at the bus station. He couldn’t not kiss him back. Awww, no, feelings. He fell into the kiss, his hands moving, touching and petting and all the things he was sure wouldn’t happen ever again. It felt so good. Fuck. Better than anything ever. Fuck. If this was how James was saying goodbye, he was going to take advantage of it.

Breathing became an issue and James pulled back, not far, still pinning Clint to the door. They stared at one another for a long time, the only noise was their breathing and street noise not quite drowned out by the windows.

“I want you, Clint Barton. In all the ways. I need you in my life. Please, please, don’t go.”

How could he say no to that? Clint tried a smile. “Okay. I want you too, ya know. I just … I’m no good at this.”

James’ smile was that amused, happy one Clint liked to see. “We’ll work it out. If not, Natalia will find more pillows.”

Clint groaned, his head falling back against the door. “Ouch!”

James grinned. “I adore you.”

Clint blushed. “Same goes.”

James responded with another kiss. 

—***

They ended up staying in Minsk. Not that they saw a lot of the town. Ha! No. Not once they got their hands on each other. They were like a couple of teenagers. Only somehow worse? They’d been there two months when James, between rounds of amazing sex, sprawled on top of Clint, looking happy and content. 

“I know what I want.”

Clint’s brain was still scrambled from the sex. “For lunch?”

James snickered. “I adore you. No, what I want to do with my life.”

The nerves were instantaneous. Clint hoped he hid them though. “What is it?”

James slid his bionic arm up Clint’s chest and then around to cup the back of his neck. The weight a welcome reminder that James loved him even at his worst. “I love you, baby. Nothing is going to change that. Okay?”

Clint nodded, not trusting his voice. Stupid emotions. Ugh. 

“I want to go home. With you. If you’ll have me.”

Clint blinked, resisting the urge to check his aids. “I love you. Don’t deserve you and will probably fuck it all up. But, I do. I really do, Jamie.”

James grinned that bright ‘all is right in the world’ grin. Clint had teased him not long after they arrived in Minsk, calling him Jamie. Instead of getting upset, James had taken to pouting when Clint used his full name. “You won’t fuck it up.”

Clint frowned. “Uhhhh, my life history says something very different.”

“No one, not you, me, or even Steve meddling will fuck this up. Natalia will beat us all with something worse than pillows.” James leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. “I’m also joining the Avengers. Someone’s gotta watch your back and keep you in one piece.”

Clint laughed, wrapping his arms around James so he stayed right where he was. “Ohhh, can we do that?”

James looked adorable and confused. “Do what exactly?”

“Buy Nat pillows, ones with Steve’s name on them so she can only use them on him.”

James laughed until he cried. But, he didn’t say no. Yay!

—***

“Took you two long enough.”

Clint’s eyebrows shot up. “Do I want to ask what you’re talking about?”

She shoved at both of them to get them on the quinjet. “I had a bet with Sam, damn it all. First bet I’ve lost in fifty fucking years because you two are morons.”

James stopped mid step. “A bet with Sam? The same Sam that was supposedly tracking me?”

She just glared, pulling a pillow from one of the shelves that was supposed to be for gear and smacking James with it. “Yes, that Sam! I’m scarier than Steve. Duh.”

Clint grabbed the pillow. “You set us up?”

She yanked the pillow out of his hands and smacked him with it. “How the hell else was I going to get you two together? James on one continent and you on another! Gah! I had to do something.”

Clint took the pillow beating. He knew better than to try to wrestle it away from her again. “We got you a gift.”

She paused, mid swing. “Oh?”

“It was Clint’s idea,” James offered, hiding behind Clint in case she tried for him again. 

“It’s a nice, ouch inducing pillow. With Steve’s name on it.”

She tossed the pillow on the seats and laughed. “What’s stopping me from using it on either of you, hmmm?”

“Nothing,” they chorused. James added, “He’s the reason I was a continent away. You would have won without him being all obsessive.”

Clint barely bit back the urge to laugh outright. That was a giant bus James just tossed Steve under. Like one of those red, double decker ones. Not that he was complaining. He was an idiot, just not that big of one. Better to have her anger aimed at Steve. He was a big boy, he could take it. James slid his arms around him and guided him over to the seats. Clint sat, smirking at the look on James’ face. 

“I’m not always a clutz you know.” 

“Just on days that end in ‘Y’ and when you aren’t focused on work,” was the dry reply as James sat in the co-pilot seat.

Nat laughed as she started the quinjet. “Awwwww. Adorable. Now stop that mushy crap. No sex stuff in front of me. Ewwww.”

Clint knew she was teasing and just laughed. He picked up the pillow she’d tossed aside and curled up to nap. He wasn’t entirely certain he wouldn’t fuck up the most important thing in his life, but he was damn well going to try the best he could not to.


End file.
